


Temptations of the Wicked

by CascadianRain



Series: So Long to Devotion [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Chant of Light, Chantry Boys, Conflict of Interests, Crisis of Faith, F/M, Mutual Pining, Purple Hawke, Repentance (Quest), Temptation, elves can be a good distraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 01:30:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12311979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CascadianRain/pseuds/CascadianRain
Summary: 9:34, end of springAfter destroying the demon at the heart of the violence against his family, Sebastian finds himself raw and hurting—and then Hawke interrupts his prayers with her teasing flirts. What’s a good Chantry Boy to do, when he wasn’t always pure and can’t possibly deserve this strange, wonderful woman before him?





	Temptations of the Wicked

_Sebastian_

“O Maker, hear my cry:   
Guide me through the blackest nights.  
Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked.  
Make me to rest in the warmest places.  
  
O Creator, see me kneel:  
For I walk only where You would bid me.  
Stand only in places You have blessed.  
Sing only the words You place in my throat.  
  
My Maker, know my heart:  
Take from me a life of sorrow.  
Lift me from a world of pain.  
Judge me worthy of Your endless pride.  
  
My Creator, judge me whole:  
Find me well within Your grace.  
Touch me with fire that I be cleansed.  
Tell me I have sung to Your approval.”

Sebastian had been at it for hours. Corruption touched him in that ancient place beneath the Harimanns’ mansion. The Desire demon had peered into his heart and seen the darkest corners. After parting ways with Hawke and her companions in the small hours of the night, the smell of that foul place still lodged in his nostrils, he’d thought merely stepping into the Chantry’s confines would ease his soul.

He dragged his weary self to his cell, stripped down and fell into bed. Lady Harimann’s plot was ended, the evil routed, his family avenged at last… sleep should come easy. But it didn’t. The destroyed demon’s voice still slithered through his mind, whispering his sins.

He’d shouted _I am the rightful heir to Starkhaven!_ That was his defence, not _I am a servant of the Maker, opposed to the evil wrought by demons._

It was a test. Always he was tested. Hawke argued against the demon so easily, kept him firm against its influence. Was that the truth of mages? That the ones who survived were far stronger than the Chantry gave them credit for—that they were stronger of will than even the Templars?

Not all perhaps, but some.

By the angle of the sun across the stone tiles, it must be mid-morning already. He’d knelt here, before the statue of Andraste, begging to be cleansed, since well before the first light of dawn. Some of the Sisters pottered about, tending to their morning duties, but none disturbed him. He would kneel here all day if he had to, despite the protests of his body.

“Don’t tell me you’re praying for the soul of that demon.”

Sebastian’s eyes sprang open. Hawke stood over him, one hand on her hip and a gentle smile curving her lips. He rose slowly, limbs stiff, and faced her without quite meeting her blue eyes. She was so much greater than he; were Hawke the Princess of Starkhaven, she’d have already reclaimed it and set the head of the usurper Goram Vael on a pike outside the city gates. She knew a sense of purpose that was denied him.

“For my own, in truth.” _Typical Sebastian, always selfish._ He hadn’t offered a single prayer for Lady Harimann or her children. 

“Why, yours is positively squeaky!” Her usual humour faded after a heartbeat. “I suppose this means you won’t be chasing around Kirkwall and the Coast with me any longer.”

At her small frown, Sebastian couldn’t help but tease her. “And disappoint you so? No, I owe you much, and with the doubt in my heart, it can’t be right to lead an army to Starkhaven.” _Not today, perhaps next month? Or the one after?_ The Maker’s sign was slow in coming. He lowered his voice, in case any nosy Sisters were near. “I must confess, I would like to remain in your service a while longer.”

H awke’s mischievous smile returned. “I can think of a few services for you to perform.”

His initial confusion was replaced by a rush of blood to his cheeks. _That wicked smile._ “That’s not what I—”

Hawke flirted with  _everyone_ ;  she was oblivious to the long-denied ache her careless words ignited. It was in her nature—and yet, there was a heat in her eyes.  Dare he believe that sincerity  lurked there ?  No, he couldn’t bear it.  And yet—

That blasted Desire demon’s filth had shaken his will to resist. If there was one thing he’d learned over the last few years, it was just how fleeting life was. _Just one touch._ Sebastian reached out and cupped Hawke’s cheek in his hand. Soft and warm—her eyes widened slightly in surprise but she didn’t back away. _Maker help me._ “Don’t think I’m not tempted, _mo cridhe_.” Hawke’s breath caught and Sebastian involuntarily leaned in further.  How easy it would be to close the distance and lay his lips upon hers and at last know her taste. _Apples and cinnamo_ _n, like the scent the lingered around her?_

“Sebastian?” The disbelief in her voice quickened his pulse. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. _Old habits._ His nose dipped down, brushed hers, and he felt her breath ghost against his lips. His whole body tensed, aching to know her and fighting against his restraint. No, this wasn’t right—he already swore himself to another’s Bride. “If I broke my vows to be with you, I wouldn’t be worthy of you. I already have enough sins to atone for. I can’t let you be one of them.”

“Where is the sin, exactly?” She tilted her chin up. _Temptress._ She’d recovered quickly—practically vibrating under his touch. The light reflected by the statue of Andraste cast Hawke in a golden glow. A perfect false idol for him to worship. “You ruining me? Me ruining you? Or realising that you might prefer a life outside the Chantry?”

“You say it like it’s easy.” His thumb brushed across her cheek. She was tearing him apart.

“It can be. If something matters enough, it _should_ be.” _There—_ right there was her sincerity, clear as morning sunlight. She wet her lips, a blush tinting her cheeks. “In any case, I was only teasing. You know me. Picking up all of Izzy’s bad habits.” She gave his arm a playful punch, somewhat harder than entirely necessary. 

At the mention of the pirate’s name, he heard her voice again: ‘ _Hawke’s a tiger between the sheets.’_ He could almost laugh at that. This young woman blushing before him was no seasoned  pleasure seeker . Not entirely innocent,  b ut more  so  than he.

Hawke held her chin high and proud, and stared a challenge at him with an irresistable quirk to her lips.  “ As for not being worthy of me… I am neither Andraste nor a whore.  There’s no sin in love. If you broke  the last of  your vows with me, it would not make either of us lesser.” 

Sebastian’ s  hand drop ped as  remorse  crashed over him . “I wish I could believe that.”

With disappointment heavy in her voice,  Hawke said, “ Me too. I hate to see you in a cage, but I won’t let you pull me in between the bars. ”

S ebastian was too stunned to speak. He blinked at her in shock, watched her stride away, her steps echoing through the Chantry like arrows striking a target.  _A cage_ _?_ As she neared the doors, he found his voice. “Hawke!”

“See you around, Choir Boy.”

The heavy doors fell shut behind her, sealing him in the cold, echoing chamber.

His fingers dug into the railing, teeth clenched tight. If only she knew.  He already was  _lesser_ .  He’d hinted to her about his life before the Chantry—called himself a wild  boy , who spent too much time in taverns—but she didn’t know the half of it. How he drank too much, was angry with  his  family  and bitterly jealous. Without his vows, that was all he was, wasn’t it?

Calling it “drinking and whoring” left room for excuses on his behalf, but he was not always kind to the women he seduced into dingy tavern rooms. There wasn’t a single one he’d cared about. They all wanted the same thing as he—carnal release—and so he took it from them. Sometimes they found it too. Sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes they gave his usual haunts a wide berth long after their night with him.

And then his parents threw him in the Chantry.  T he only woman there was Andraste. The standard  was  set. The line drawn:  either chastity or base desires .  But with Hawke...Maker help him, she was something new. She was whole and real and he wanted to see what her armo u r hid— the worn set she wore and the casual smile she used to keep the city at arm’s length.

She let it slip a moment ago, when he held her closer than he’d ever dared, and again when she stepped out of his reach.

But to be with her—it was impossible. No matter that Charlie made his breath catch when he saw her, or that he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in exquisite joy and protect her from the city threatening to take her down in flames with it. He made vows before the Maker… yet Elthina refused to take him back as a Brother. Right now he was neither prince nor priest. Only alone—horribly alone.

Oh Maker, what had he done?

Sebastian raced the length of the Chantry, breathless with each long stride that brought Charlie nearer. He dragged open the heavy door and stumbled out to the ledge at the top of the steep stairs. There—a flash of red—

“No.” The word slipped out on a hopeless breath.

Hawke was not striding back toward her estate, she was climbing the steps toward the upper square of Hightown. Toward Fenris.

Sebastian’s fingers threaded through his thick hair and gripped fistfuls until his scalp burned. “No, no, Maker, please no.” _Anything but that._

He’d chased her away—straight into another man’s embrace.

 

 

_Charlie_

_No one cages a Hawke._ It’s what her Da always told her and Bethany while they moved from town to town, always giving the local Chantry and Templars a wide berth. 

Charlie’s boots clattered down the steps as she hurried to put as much distance as she could from that cold Hall and the young man within.

It figured that of all the people she could fall for without realising, it had to be a Brother of the blasted Chantry. She’d stepped foot into a Chantry more times in the last two years than in her entire life before Kirkwall, just so she could see that smile and impossible blue eyes light up every time Sebastian saw her.

No, it would never do.

She needed a drink. Not the swill at the Hanged Man but quality booze. Hopefully Fenris hadn’t used the last of it to paint his walls a burgundy hue. Now _there_ was a fellow who was fine to look at _and_ knew how to return a flirt without going all _“sins and vows and Maker May I.”_

And yet… Sebastian hadn’t reacted at all how she’d expected. He ought to have blushed and stammered and gotten all flustered and it would have been flaming adorable. Because he was sweet and handsome and it wasn’t fair that he was chained up by the Chantry.

Instead… Andraste preserve her, there was a fire in his eyes. _Desire_. For her. _Mo cridhe_ he’d called her, and it sounded like the tenderest of caresses. There was more to the rigidly controlled Choir Boy than any of them gave him credit for.

But he lived in a cage patrolled by predators with the power to take _everything_ from her. If he thought she was a sin on top of that—well, she didn’t have time for that nonsense. ‘Love’! Honestly! What had made her say _that?_

There was no time for love or indecisive Choir Boys with the city teetering on the brink of chaos. That hypocrite of an Arishok, preaching order while knowing precisely that his presence was stirring things up.

No, there was only this moment, and this moment demanded wine. Oh but Sebastian’s voice— _his touch_ —it made her crave something else that warmed her through without a drop of alcohol. Unfortunately for Sebastian, he wasn’t the only friend of hers with a sexy voice. Hawke giggled to herself and immediately pressed her lips together. The Sister at the Chanter’s Board glanced at her with mild concern.

Fenris was almost as bad as Sebastian when it came to self-control, but when prodded just enough, he snapped. Hawke felt reckless and almost giddy. Maybe it was time to call him on his flirting. She paused at the edge of the courtyard, torn between the path toward her estate and the stairs tucked in the corner, leading to the upper mansion square.

A passionate, glowing elf would surely help throw thoughts of fairy tale love and Choir Boys straight out of her head. And Sebastian could keep himself company with his dear, old frigid statue of a dead woman.

**Author's Note:**

> Verse of the Chant are Transfigurations 12.1-4 and belong to Bioware. A few lines of game dialogue were lifted, too, just to fit the Hawke/Sebastian canon arc.


End file.
